What Poems Can't Say
by Wisdom's Shadow
Summary: Artemis Fowl is in a state of depression. He is considering suicide, while thinking of poems that relate to his situation. It all comes down to a twisted game of Russian Roulette with himself. Can Holly help him? Read and Review


What Poems Can't Describe

A/N: This is an angst story for Artemis Fowl. Don't flame too hard.

Disclaimer: I do not own Artemis Fowl… All italics are poems or quotes which I don't own. The poem in black is one that I made myself!

I am the only one in this manor. Mother and Father are with my brothers on a little vacation in New York. Juliet is with them, showing them around. I allowed Butler a day off. I told him I was going to stay in my room all day and that he could go off to wherever he chooses today.

"Why today?" He asked. Of course he would be slightly paranoid as to why I am suggesting today.

"It is a beautiful day. Besides, this morning you seemed tired. Maybe you just need time off. Take today off. If it was not to your liking then you don't have to take time off. If you liked it then you can have the week or more if you choose off. A sort of reward and a show of my gratitude." I spoke in a manner to where Butler believed me whole heartedly. He was even touched by the act of sincerity. Domovoi was going to get much more time off then he will expect.

I haven't seen Holly ever since we parted after the Time Paradox incident. We didn't part on the best of terms. I don't blame her. I lied. I hurt her. It wasn't right.

So here I am, with a revolver twirling between my pianist fingers. Fingers that have held her hands. Fingers that have wanted to brush away her tears when she cried for Julius. Fingers that have typed on a keyboard more times then are possible to count. Fingers that have gained magic and fingers that should never have been gained.

The cold steel of the gun's barrel reminded me of how cruel I used to be. I was so cold… I had reason but it wasn't enough. I didn't want pity, I wanted my father back. The same father who treated me as a student. The father I was always eager to please. My mother who had abandoned me when father was lost. I was just a child! I needed someone by my side! I had Butler, and for that I am grateful. I am sorry, Butler, for what I have to do today.

_Suicide sometimes proceeds from cowardice, but not always; for cowardice sometimes prevents it; since as many live because they are afraid to die, as die because they are afraid to live._

I am not a coward. I have faced demons and the Mafia. I have faced one of the most dangerous pixies ever to have lived. I have faced hundreds of trolls with my best friend. I have done the impossible. Many of that, I regret but it doesn't change that it happened.

_Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem._

My logical brain cannot think of another solution to my problem that would fit my life better. There are options but non of which I would prefer.

_The great thing about suicide is that it's not one of those things you have to do now or you lose your chance. I mean, you can always do it later._

I have often thought of suicide. It would be simple. But it would hurt others. Well, I have no reason_ not _to now. Father is alive. The finances are safe. Opal is behind bars and has no chance of escape. Holly doesn't want to talk to me. I'm probably a burden. It's no use to go on.

_Anyone desperate enough for suicide should be desperate enough to go to creative extremes to solve problems: elope at midnight, stow away on the boat to New Zealand and start over, do what they always wanted to do but were afraid to try. _

Minerva has married to a rich family boy. He is not too bright but they are right together. They make each other happy. Why can't I marry? The only one I want to marry hates me. I do not wish to live anywhere but these incredible Irish fields. I tried to tell Holly I loved her, but it wouldn't come out. It didn't want to come out. I was afraid and thus it didn't work.

_Suicide is a fundamental human right. This does not mean it is morally desirable. It only means that society has the moral right to interfere._

I cannot tell anyone of my problems. I do not desire to be put into some mental hospital just because my family wants me alive. It is their own selfishness that's bounds me here. They want me around even though I am suffering. They can live without me.

_The real reason for not committing suicide is because you always know how swell life gets after hell is over_

I only wish my hell would be over soon. And my hell is this cursed life! I must escape.

_Oh, when I was in love with you, then I was clean and brave. And miles around the wonder grew how well I did behave. _

_And now the fancy passes by, and nothing will remain, and miles around they'll say that I am quite myself again._

Holly made me good. She gave me reason to be pure and good.

_Here the hangman stops his cart. Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well for ill fare I. Live lads, and I will die._

_Oh, at home had I but stayed 'prenticed to my father's trade. Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost my lads. _

_Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps. Never dangled on my own had I left but ill alone._

_Now, you see, they hang me high. And the people passing by stop to shake their fists and curse. So 'tis come from ill to worse. _

_Here hang I and left and right two poor fellows hang for theft. All the same' the luck we prove though the midmost hangs for love. _

_Comrades all, that stand and gaze, walk henceforth in other ways. See my neck and save your own. Comrades all leave ill alone. _

_Make someday a decent end, shrewder fellows then your friend. Fare you well for ill fare I. Live lads and I will die. _

This poem fits me. I parted with Holly. She will live a long happy life but I am faced with one filled with misery. The People hate me even though I saved them. I hope my brothers end up better than I did.

_Shot? So quick, so clean an ending? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave. Yours was not an ill for mending. 'Twas best to take it to the grave. _

_Oh you had forethought you could reason. You saw your road and where it led, and early wise and brave in season put the pistol to you head._

_Oh soon, and better so than later, after long disgrace and scorn, you shot dead the household traitor, the soul that should not have been born._

_Right you guessed the rising morrow and scorned to tread the mire you must: dust's your wages, son of fire. But men have come to worse then dust. _

_Now to your grave shall friend and stranger with ruth and some with envy come: undishonoured, clean of danger, clean of guilt pass hence and home? _

_Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking, and here, man, here's the wreath I've made: 'Tis not the gift that's worth the taking, but wear it and it will not fade. _

I am the household traitor. I should not have been born. I need to shoot myself. That's the only way to make things right.

All these poems and quotes, many of them fit me so well and seem to be about me. But there is one poem that fits right above all:

**A whole new block. A mind of pure genius. A boy who got greedy and drove them away. He could have found love if he hadn't been cocky. He made the first move. A hurtful attack. They parted at truce. They went through much together. In the end, he had lied. It was all in good reason but pained nonetheless. Now a hotshot named Trouble has seized her from him. Though she was never truly his. She was his flame. His reason for life. I suppose he should have thought twice. Now she has her knight in shining armor. And the brokenhearted lad has a gun to his temple and although this seems so very cliché, he would still be alive if he gotten the girl that got away. **

**~Artemis Fowl the Second. **

I place the gun to my head and recall that one quote. "Do the things you were afraid to try."

I put a bullet in and spin it. Russian roulette. I might die, I might not… We will see.

It seemed simple. I grabbed my cell phone and called Holly through Foaly's private line.

"Hello?" Holly answered.

"I love you, Holly. Fare thee well." I say with a smile as I pull the trigger, the last words I hear are: "I love you too."

The last sound I hear is the click of an empty shell. I am truly a lucky boy.

**A/N: So Artemis lives! LUCK OF THE IRISH! I just can't kill him! He's too lovable! Please review and don't flame this story too hard… **


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